


Eye of the Beholder

by stephanericher



Series: SASO 17 [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:25:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: “Hang on,” says Eikichi, turning toward the webcam—the light near the eye is green. “Are you filming this?”





	Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> written for saso br1; original prompt [here :](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=9923346#cmt9923346) nebumibu beauty vlogger/'my boyfriend does my makeup' video

Eikichi stares at the array of makeup spilled out over the tabletop. There’s no other real appropriate reaction, especially with all the thoughts running through his mind. How much does all of this cost? Reo’s always complaining about the cost of one little can of makeup stuff; there have to be thousands here—how the hell does he decide what to use? There have to be trillions of permutations, more than there are days in even the longest lifetime, and Eikichi’s pretty sure Reo usually puts on a similar face full of makeup. At least, it doesn’t look that much different to him from day to day, even when he’s trying to notice and compliment Reo on the nice eye stuff (which Reo always tries to explain and divide into its components; it starts out simple and before long Eikichi’s confused all over again).  
  
“Wouldn’t it be better if you just showed me off as arm candy?”  
  
“No,” says Reo, an edge of whining in his voice. “My viewers want to see you do my makeup.”  
  
“What if I poke your eye out? I don’t know what any of this shit is.”  
  
“That’s why we learn,” says Reo.   
  
“Hang on,” says Eikichi, turning toward the webcam—the light near the eye is green. “Are you filming this?”  
  
“Of course,” says Reo, waving his hand. “It’s all part of the process.”  
  
“Okay,” says Eikichi. “You said I could start with a subset—”  
  
“This is the subset,” says Reo.  
  
Eikichi looks at him; Reo looks back. He’s not being sarcastic. Eikichi drags a hand down his face.  
  
“I can’t believe you do that,” says Reo. “How do you not get pimples when you touch your face so much?”  
  
“Maybe if you ate more protein,” Eikichi grumbles. “Isn’t some of that makeup stuff greasy, too? It wouldn’t kill you to go without once in a while.”  
  
“It’s my brand,” says Reo.  
  
“Are you going to put that in the final video?”  
  
“Probably not,” says Reo, pausing, pushing his hair back, putting on a fake smile, and addressing the camera. “This is my boyfriend, Eikichi. Today, he’s going to do my makeup, and we’ll see how good of a job he does.”  
  
Eikichi holds up a can. “What’s this?”  
  
“It’s bronzer,” says Reo.  
  
“What’s bronzer? How come you have so much of it?”  
  
Reo rolls his eyes, pointing at some of the other cans that look exactly like the one in his hand. “That’s blush; that’s foundation; that’s concealer. That’s an eyeshadow palette; that’s a lighter foundation. That one’s bronzer.”  
  
Eikichi has no idea which ones he means are which. He puts the bronzer down and picks up a tube. This one says it’s eyeliner; he knows what that is at least.   
  
“Can I put this on first?”  
  
Reo opens his mouth, then shuts it and gives a very artificial smile. “It’s your call. You’re the artist.”  
  
That’s a no, then. He picks up another little can, twisting off the top. He pulls a little too hard; a cloud of powder puffs up and he almost sneezes. Reo giggles. Eikichi stares into it. It’s a close enough shade to Reo’s skin tone, but a little bit lighter—how does he make it blend in?   
  
“This is…concealer.”  
  
“Foundation,” says Reo.  
  
“Right,” says Eikichi.  
  
Foundation sounds like something you put on first, so he dips his finger in.  
  
“What are you doing?” says Reo.  
  
“I want to test how it looks on your skin,” says Eikichi. “So I’d only take a little.”  
  
“Always use a brush,” says Reo.   
  
“It’s already on my finger,” says Eikichi.   
  
“Brush,” says Reo.  
  
There’s another problem; Reo has approximately five thousand different brushes. Some are big; some are small; Eikichi supposes a smaller brush might be better for testing but he doesn’t want to get more than one brush dirty so he picks a bigger one. Reo hands him a tissue.  
  
“Your finger.”  
  
Eikichi wipes it out and tosses it into the trash, then dips the brush into the powder, trying to coat the tips. He smudges it across Reo’s forehead; it looks even starker right on his skin.   
  
“Should I start here?”  
  
“Go ahead,” says Reo, and this time Eikichi can’t read whether he’s right or not.  
  
The problem with watching Reo put makeup on all of the time is that none of it really registers, what he puts where and when; Eikichi’s watched his routine but all he remembers is gestures, swiping and dabbing; maybe some of it’s only stuff that’s safe to do when you’re as advanced as Reo is. He was probably a beginner at some point, even if he’d sprung from the womb with innate makeup talent, but that must have been long before Eikichi had met him. Even first year of high school, he’d be standing in front of the locker room mirror before and after basketball practice, hands swiping brushes across his face so fast that somehow even with all the extra prep Reo would always be one of the first ones ready to go.   
  
“This would have been easier if you still had longer hair,” says Eikichi, lifting Reo’s hair out of the way again—it’s still not long enough to tuck behind his ear.  
  
“You can pin it back if you want,” says Reo.  
  
Makeup is one thing, but hair is completely different—and Eikichi decides that no one will see what’s under it anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s made up or not. He dips the brush into the can again, spreading the foundation all around Reo’s face. Maybe it’s like painting, something Eikichi had never been very good at in school, blending colors and shit. Does he have to use a darker one to create shadows? Reo’s always talking about contours when he’s making his videos; maybe he should have made an outline and filled it in. Whatever. He picks up another can, opening it and squinting at the color. Still too light.  
  
“The color’s on the bottom,” says Reo.  
  
Eikichi flips the can over; the sticker on the bottom does not match the color that’s inside. Maybe there’s a mapping that makeup people know, but Eikichi’s not privy to it. Then again, it’s relative; he flips a bunch of other jars over until he finds a darker one. It’s maybe a little too dark, but if he can blend it with the other one maybe it’ll work? He looks for a different brush (he’s not going to attempt to clean the other one) and finds one that’s a little smaller, better for making stripes and shit. He dips it in the new jar.  
  
The striped shadows on the sides of Reo’s nose and forehead look a little heavy; Eikichi frowns. He tries to blend the edges, but all it does is spill the darker lines over in jagged edges.  
  
“How do I make it blend?” says Eikichi.  
  
“Use the Beautyblender.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Reo points to an egg-shaped stress relief toy thing that Eikichi’s always trying to squeeze—he hadn’t thought Reo actually used it for makeup when he’d yelled about it, just that he’d wanted it for himself.  
  
“For real?”  
  
“Yes,” says Reo.   
  
Eikichi lifts it up and squeezes it, just for kicks. It’s not that firm, kind of disappointing honestly. He rubs it across; the lines blur a little bit better.  
  
“Am I doing it right?”  
  
“I’ll show you later,” says Reo. “You’re doing fine.”  
  
Eikichi’s getting bored; he has no idea how Reo puts up with making whole videos about it and doing it on himself every day. The end result is always nice, but Eikichi’s not sure he’d ever be able to decide it’s worth it for himself. Maybe that’s why rich people hire makeup artists, so they don’t have to do it for themselves.  
  
“Can I do the eyes now?”  
  
“Your choice,” says Reo.  
  
Eikichi’s doing the eyes. He puts down the egg and picks up the tube of eyeliner. It looks darker than what Reo usually wears, but whatever. He wipes off the wand on the rim and holds it up to Reo’s eyelid. Reo shuts his eyes obligingly, and Eikichi touches the wand to his skin. It should be easy to draw a line over the edge, but it’s not; the wand slips and he draws a streak up the middle of Reo’s eyelid. Oh, well, it’s a look; he can do the same thing on the other side. It’s even more of a problem trying to get the line to match; it goes sideways and diagonal and ends up thicker, almost like a rectangle. Eikichi goes back to the other side to correct the first one.  
  
“What are you doing?” says Reo.  
  
“Trying to get the eyes to match,” says Eikichi.   
  
“You’re going to end up painting my whole eyelid,” says Reo.  
  
“Don’t you do that sometimes?”  
  
Reo sighs; he doesn’t say it’s different but he thinks it hard enough for Eikichi to hear. Eikichi draws back; the eye streaks are different but good enough.   
  
“Okay, done.”  
  
Reo opens his eyes, blinking into the mirror. His lips twitch; he looks like he’s about to start laughing.  
  
“What?” says Eikichi. “It’s a dramatic effect.”  
  
“It’s something,” says Reo.   
  
There’s tubes of lipstick and lip liner, too; Eikichi likes the pinker stuff even though Reo always says he wants to use it sparingly, so he picks up the brightest hue on the table. Reo puckers his lips and Eikichi applies; that’s easier to get inside the lines. It stands out a little sharply against the paler foundation, but it still looks good. Eikichi dusts off his hands.  
  
“Okay, done.”  
  
Reo looks at him. “You sure? Is there anything else you want to do?”  
  
“Um?” says Eikichi.  
  
He’s probably missing something; he’s not sure if Reo wants blush on top of the foundation or more eyeliner or some of that other eye stuff, but his interest is waning exponentially.   
  
“Okay,” says Reo. “I guess he’s done. Thank you, Eikichi.”  
  
He stands up, reaching over to tilt the webcam, wrapping an arm around Eikichi’s shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. This part’s not too bad. Eikichi makes a move to leave, so Reo can redo his makeup or whatever.  
  
“I still need to interview you about the process,” says Reo.  
  
“I think the makeup speaks for itself,” says Eikichi.  
  
Reo doesn’t buy it for a second.


End file.
